


The Seven Hells

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Greyjoy Rebellion, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Mortally wounded, Stannis weds Davos to see him provided for after his death. The only complication: Stannis doesn't die.
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon/Davos Seaworth
Comments: 11
Kudos: 75
Collections: Rare Pairs Exchange 2020





	The Seven Hells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



Stannis knew the wound was bad, he was not a fool. They had given him enough milk of the poppy that he no longer cared that he had been practically eviscerated by Maron Greyjoy, before Robert's warhammer had split his head open. And Robert was standing over his bed, looking grim and, for once in his life, serious. That was definitely a bad sign.

He seemed to be waiting for Stannis to speak, so he did.

"Bring me Ser Davos. And a septon."

"Stannis..." he said quietly. "You can't mean..."

"I mean to be wed." Through the haze of the milk of the poppy, he could sense that Robert was somehow displeased with this plan, but that was none of Stannis's concern. He would soon be dead, and it wouldn't matter.

"To Ser Davos?"

"That is why I've asked for him as well as the septon. That's how it is usually effected."

"But Dragonstone—" 

"If you like, give it to Renly or to your son or to whoever wants it. I know it cannot pass to my widower in his own right. But there is the inheritance settled on me by Father and the lands on the coast from Grandfather. Those are _mine_ and they will be his."

Robert seemed to roll this idea around in his mind for quite some time. Stannis wished he would get on with it so he would not be dead before he was wed.

"Robert," he said, loathing the weakness he could hear in his voice. He had nearly called him Robby. "Brother. I am going to die soon. We both know this. If you bear me any love, do this for me, and help me see that he is looked after. You don't need to have any dealings with him after I am dead if it is that you do not want a smuggler for a goodbrother. He will go back to his lands _which you will not take from him_ , and enjoy the incomes it is in my power to give him."

Robert gave him another long, skeptical look, and Stannis closed his eyes. He could feel the life draining out of him. Curse his brother for making his last moments so miserable… 

"You heard the man. Ser Davos and the septon. Go." Robert was speaking to his squire, an Estermont cousin. Stannis heard him dashing away. He closed his eyes as Robert's hand reached down to touch his shoulder. 

**

Cautiously, Davos entered the room where Stannis lay. He had wondered if perhaps his liege was already dead, and he had been summoned to be told. He glanced at the septon. He had the Stranger's vestments for a passing, and for some reason, over his other arm, he had Maiden's vestments. 

Had he been called away from performing a wedding to attend to Stannis's passing? Davos wondered who could be getting married in the middle of the night in a castle recently under siege. 

"Your Grace," he said hesitantly, looking at the king. Robert looked grim. 

"Stannis," Robert said, nudging his brother. "They're here. Davos and the septon." 

Stannis's eyes fluttered open. "Good. Davos, come here." 

Davos leaned closer, because Stannis seemed to want him to. 

"I have brought the septon here to marry us so that you may have something to live on when I am gone."

"My lord…" Davos's head spun. He did not know what to make his first objection. "Don't you think this is a little hasty?" 

"Look at me, Davos. I am dying. What difference does it make?" 

Davos's gaze swept downward unbidden, the sheet was saturated with blood, and he did not want to look beneath it. His breath caught in his throat, and there was a sudden heaviness in his chest. 

"No." The word left him with a breath and Stannis closed his eyes. 

"So if I am to die anyway, Davos, let me settle an inheritance on you. I know you will have your lands but you will be forgotten and lose any protection I have given you." He took another breath; it was clearly agony for him. "I want you to be able to make your own way with your children without… without…" 

_Returning to smuggling_ , Davos thought. Which was exactly what he had considered doing if Stannis died or got tired of him, before he had realized the latter would never happen.

"Will you marry me, Davos?" 

Davos stared into the blue eyes as his own misted with tears. "Yes," he said quietly. He did not want to argue with Stannis, not now. 

Stannis visibly relaxed, though he had nearly no energy left to hold himself as tensely as was his custom. "Good. You may begin, Septon. Robert, see if Lord Stark can make himself useful by serving as witness." 

It was like a mockery of a wedding. One bridegroom was given another strong dose of milk of the poppy so he could tolerate being propped up. 

Ned Stark removed Davos's travelling cloak which he had still been wearing; Robert, acting as Stannis's proxy, settled Stannis's bloodstained mantle about his shoulders. It had a hole in it, Davos noted with horror, a bloody sword hole. 

The septon spoke the words which should have been spoken in a sunny sept, his sons serving as pages as Stannis placed the Baratheon cloak about Davos's shoulders. Not that he had ever envisioned it. 

"With this kiss I seal my love," he murmured and lowered his mouth to Stannis's. Stannis kissed him back weakly as the septon pronounced them one heart, one flesh, and one soul. 

Davos straightened up, and there was a long beat where no one seemed to know what to do. The septon still had one hand on his Stranger's vestments; the maester was ready with another dose of milk of the poppy. Robert looked lost; Ned Stark had faded into the background after acting in place of Davos's father. 

They were all looking at Davos. 

He looked at the maester. The maester looked at him and held out the milk of the poppy. "Shall I give him this, ser? To ease his passing?" 

Davos wondered why he was being asked before he remembered he was Stannis's husband. 

"You mean now? You just gave him some." 

The maester inclined his head. "Another dose and he will pass peacefully." 

"I will not have you kill my husband. Not if there is still hope." 

The maester looked confused that Davos did not want to dispose of his husband now that he was heir to a fortune. "It… it is unlikely he will live, ser." 

Davos pressed his lips together. "I am used to slim odds. Lord Stannis took a chance on me; I would be remiss if I did not take a chance on him." 

Maester Cressen had delivered Davos's little Devan, and Davos would have trusted Stannis's care to him, but he was not here. Davos did not trust any other maester he'd met, but he'd seen Essosi healers heal wounds that might have killed men, and they'd delivered his first four sons, even when he had been young and terrified birthing Dale. Davos had stayed with the Braavosi woman in the first few months after he'd given birth, and she had made him feel useful when he'd had nowhere else to go. 

"Right then." If no one else was doing anything, Davos was going to take charge. He took off Stannis's cloak, folded it, and set it on a chair. It could be cleaned and mended later. Then he withdrew a tie from his belt and pulled his hair back. "I will have some honey and some linen—clean linen." 

Everyone stared at him. Then, after a long moment in which no one did anything, Ned Stark opened the door and called for a servant. 

Gingerly, Davos pulled back the sheets. Stannis's middle was a bloody mess; he could not tell how he was still alive. 

Especially since they had left his filthy gambeson on him after cutting it open, and he suspected parts of Stannis's clothes were still in the wound. 

Davos rolled up his sleeves. "Will you help me?" he asked the king. "I want to get him undressed, change this dressing, change the sheets." 

Robert was staring blankly at him. 

"Your Grace," Davos said, because he realized he had forgotten to address him as that before, "I cannot lift him by myself." 

Robert, who had to be a foot taller than Davos and almost twice as broad, bestirred himself. Together, they got Stannis undressed. Davos had to check that he was still breathing every time they moved him, and his heart was in his throat as he peeled off the disgusting dressing that had been put on in the field and, it seemed, not changed since. 

"Some wine," he said. 

Robert got it without saying anything; Davos wondered if the maester was even still there. 

Davos cleaned the wound as best he could. He thought back to when he had been living with Mathilde. There had been a young bravo, brought in by his friends after losing a duel. He'd been run clean through and the sword had still been inside him. Davos remembered watching her remove it; she had quietly told Davos to be ready for the man to die. Instead, he'd lived. Because the wound had been cleaned and Mathilde had put honey on it. 

Stannis had not quite been run through; that was the hope Davos was clinging to. 

"Thank you," he told Robert when they had finished turning and moving Stannis. "You may have saved your brother's life. Your Grace." 

"Of course," Robert mumbled, and then he, too, left them. Davos slumped exhausted into a chair. What more had Mathilde taught him? 

"Father?" 

Davos jumped. Dale stood in the doorway—gods, Dale! He had left his son on his ship when he'd gone to see what Stannis needed him for, and now they were married. 

"Yes, Dale?" He did not get up; he was far too exhausted. 

"Is… Is Lord Stannis?" He glanced over at Stannis, who was breathing evenly, but at least he was breathing. 

"He is alive." Davos swallowed hard. "We are going to take care of him. You remember Mathilde?"

Dale nodded. They had visited her often before her death, so he ought to have.

"We are going to use what she taught me to help Lord Stannis." 

"The men were saying he was going to die." 

Davos pressed his lips together. "He still might." He had gone too long without mentioning the wedding. Dale was still looking at him as though he knew he was omitting something. Davos had not been prepared for age fourteen; Dale was nearly a man and had to be treated like one.

"Lord Stannis had a request before he died," Davos continued softly. "He asked me to marry him."

"What's the point of being betrothed if he was going to die?" 

"The septon has just married us."

Dale glanced at Stannis's sleeping form. "Just like that?" 

Davos nodded. The enormity of what he'd agreed to was settling in. He was Stannis's husband now. Even if he had no right to Dragonstone, he would have Stannis's personal fortune and incomes. His head was spinning with the enormity of it; he had only a passing understanding of how these things worked, though Stannis had helped Davos himself draw up a will a few years ago so that each of his sons would inherit something. Apparently only Dale had a right to his lands on Cape Wrath; Stannis had looked at Davos like he was mad when he'd suggested dividing it. 

He'd then gone into a long explanation of primogeniture and entails. Davos tried to remember this now. There had been something about a sum of money in the Iron Bank, an exorbitant sum Davos didn't want to contemplate, which amounted to a thousand a year. (He'd asked Stannis a thousand _whats_ , since he could not fathom the answer was _gold dragons_.) And then there were the lands, which Stannis had showed him on the map, as though preparing him for precisely this moment. (There was no way that was possible, was it?) 

Davos wondered at that, as he remembered Stannis showing him exactly where the lands that had been left to him were. Apparently, they had been part of his mother's dowry from her father Lord Estermont and ran along the coast from Cape Wrath into the Rainwood and south to Weeping Town. 

Davos suddenly realized that the reason his own lands had been Stannis's to give away was because they had belonged personally to Stannis and not to his brother, the Lord of Storm's End. 

He was suddenly not sure how he felt about that. 

"Father?" 

He blinked. "Yes, Dale."

"What are we going to do now?" 

Davos rose, bracing his back, and went to check his patient. "We are going to take care of your stepfather." 

Because the only way Davos was going to avoid having this enormous inheritance he would not know what to do with, was for his husband to live. 

**

Stannis was floating, somewhere between wakefulness and oblivion. There was one clear thought in his head. Davos would be well provided for. He had always been guilty that Davos's lands were a poor income for a man who continued reproducing at the rate he did. 

Now he could die peacefully, knowing that Davos had the benefit of all the incomes of the Rainwood and the thousand a year from Father. 

All this accomplished, Stannis lay there and waited to die. 

What was taking so long?

He didn't think he was already dead because he was still in pain. Incredible, increasing pain, in fact. 

And Davos seemed to be there. Davos was _humming_. 

His brother seemed to be there, too; he could feel Robert pushing him about for some reason and stuffing a pillow under him. Who could ever understand what Robert did? At any rate, it was a bizarre dream to precede his death. Perhaps that was how it went.

Periodically, someone—Davos, he thought, but he couldn't understand why—would put a cool compress on his forehead. It felt good, for the rest of him seemed to be burning. 

"Hold his hands," Davos said, and someone—Ned Stark? Why?—seized his wrists. "He will fight this."

And then Davos plunged his hands into Stannis's abdomen and began removing his entrails. 

At least, that was what it felt like. 

"It's healing more or less nicely," he heard Davos say. "Thank you for your help, my lord." 

"Shh, Stannis. You're all right." Davos held a cup to his lips and he drank. After that, he knew nothing.

**

Davos conceded for the maester to examine Stannis daily, but he performed all of Stannis's care, and he refused to let the man give him too much milk of the poppy. 

Lord Stark proved himself unexpectedly helpful, as was Dale, and even Robert began helping after perhaps feeling the guilt of abandoning his brother. 

After a week, Davos began to feel better about Stannis's prospects for survival. He was still weak, but his fever had broken after a liberal application of cool cloths. His wound appeared not to have become befouled, and Davos opened the window for some fresh air, over the maester's objections.

"How is Lord Stannis?" Dale asked. 

"Better." Davos idly stroked Stannis's sweat-soaked hair. He was still pale, but the bleeding had largely stopped; Davos was changing the dressing about twice a day now. The maester had wanted to bleed him, and Davos had dismissed him right away. 

_You have to live_ , he thought. _To keep me from the thousand a year and the entire Rainwood._

He did not even remember falling asleep.

**

Stannis blinked awake to find that he was still alive. The room was still and quiet, but the same one he'd been brought to after being wounded. The window was open and a gentle breeze blew in; Stannis could taste salt and bile on his dry lips. He shivered. 

He experimented with moving his feet and fire exploded from his middle. He would not attempt that any further. Next, he tried moving his hand. His left hand collided with a soft pile of something. 

Stannis slowly turned his head. 

His fingers were tangled in Davos's hair. 

Davos was asleep, his head on the mattress. He looked very uncomfortable slumped forward in his chair. 

Stannis tried to withdraw his hand so as not to wake him, but he failed and Davos lifted his head, blinking blearily. 

"M'lord?" 

"I didn't mean to wake you, Davos. I apologize." At least, that was what he'd meant to say. What he said "I d-d-didn't m-m-mean—" because his teeth were chattering. 

"Let me get you some blanket." Davos rose, his hair wild around his head, having come almost entirely loose from its tie. Stannis watched, shivering, as Davos got a blanket out of a chest and draped it around his shoulders. Then he stoked the fire. Gradually, Stannis stopped shivering. 

"What is happening?" he croaked. 

"Well," Davos said, "it's been a week and you seem to be out of the woods." 

"I'm going to live?"

"We are still praying, but no, I think the Stranger will have to wait to take you."

Stannis processed this. He looked at the beams of the ceiling, listened to the sea and the crackle of the fire. And Davos humming again. 

"I married you," he said, to make sure that hadn't been a dream. 

"Yes, my lord."

Stannis exhaled. He still wasn't convinced he wasn't going to die; the tightness in his belly certainly felt like death. 

"Good," he said. 

And then the darkness took him again.

**

Davos had been thinking of the idea for a few days, but it had taken some time to work up the courage to speak to the king. Robert looked as surprised to see Davos in his rooms as Davos felt to find himself in them. 

"Your Grace?" he began.

"What do you need, Davos?" Robert said. Lord Stark was with him and his presence was strangely comforting to Davos. 

"Your Grace, I should like to take… Stannis away home." 

"Back to the capital, then? I was thinking of going back there in the next few weeks; nothing to do here. And if you think he can be moved, we'll move him."

Davos took a breath. "Not to the capital, Your Grace." 

"Dragonstone, then. Be good for him. Less excitement."

"I would like to take him to Cape Wrath."

Robert's eyebrows rose. "Cape Wrath?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Those are my lands—"

"I know. But you can't take him away to some backwater castle where he won't have any care at all." 

Davos realized suddenly that one thing had happened since he'd married Stannis—he was no longer afraid of the king. This was merely his goodbrother who was not a very pleasant person. 

"Dragonstone is far too damp and the capital far too crowded and full of bad air. Cape Wrath is cleaner, warmer, and the fresh air will be good for him. I believe in fresh air. I will take care of him."

Robert looked nothing short of flummoxed. "You think you have any right—" 

"Respectfully, Your Grace, I am Lord Stannis's husband. It is my right to make such decisions for his care." 

"You are only his husband because—"

"Because he asked to marry me." Davos tried to imagine his boots fixed firmly to the floor; it helped him fight off the urge to retreat. "There's been naught between us before that, if you think I've seduced him. Your Grace." He swallowed hard.

"He's right, Robert." Lord Stark said quietly. "Had things gone differently, would I be telling you how to see to Lyanna's care?" 

Robert scowled. "That's low, Ned, and you know it." 

Lord Stark's expression did not relax. Davos did not move. 

And the next day, some men were carrying Stannis on a stretcher onto _Black Betha_ bound for Cape Wrath.

**

Stannis awoke in a panic, thinking he was in a coffin. But no, it was a close bunk on a ship. He was at sea. He turned his head. The pressure in his middle was still there, but his head felt clearer. 

The door to the cabin opened and a boy stuck his head through. It was Davos's eldest son, who he'd brought along as a cabin boy. Dale, Stannis's brain dimly supplied. 

"You're awake, Stepfather?" 

Stepfather? Of course. Stannis wasn't sure how he felt about that. He decided to ignore it.

"I am." 

"Father wondered if you might like to eat." 

Stannis wasn't sure if he was precisely hungry, but he might as well eat. 

"I would."

Dale vanished and Stannis closed his eyes until Davos appeared with a tray. 

"Good morning, my lord. Would you like to eat, or would you like me to feed you?" 

"I would… not like you to feed me. I will feed myself." Stannis tried to push himself up and failed. Davos immediately produced a pillow from somewhere and helped him prop himself up. He set the tray on his lap and then sat down on the edge of the bunk to watch Stannis feed himself as though he thought he might have to take over at any moment. 

Stannis's stomach was not exactly content, but if he ate slowly, he might just manage not to be sick. 

"How do you feel?" Davos asked him.

"Alive." Stannis took a small bite of mashed potato. His tray was filled with bland food approved for invalids, but he couldn't manage to work up the energy to be annoyed with this. 

"Well, that's good then, as you are still alive." Davos smiled. He was handsome when he smiled, Stannis noticed, though there were dark circles under his eyes. 

"You've not slept." 

"Not much," Davos said honestly. 

"You should sleep."

"You need looking after." 

"I do not," Stannis said, "need looking after." And then he upset his plate in his lap. 

He _was_ dead, he decided. He was in the hells. The septon had been right, and he had asked too many questions about where the world and the things in it had come from. 

The first hell had been the burning. The second hell had been the cold. And the third hell was Davos Seaworth changing his bedding and his shift with the deftness of someone who has long played nursemaid. Stannis could not bear the thought of four more hells. 

**

Davos's sudden burst in confidence when asserting himself to the king continued on their journey to Cape Wrath. 

"You are the lord consort of Dragonstone," Davos told himself in the mirror before asking anyone for anything. "You are the knight of Cape Wrath and goodbrother to the king. And they must give you what you want." 

That was how, when they docked at Weeping Town, Davos arranged the finest and most well-sprung _covered_ wagon available to carry Stannis to the keep and a rider to go ahead. He also hired more servants, and they stayed in the home of the wealthiest merchant in town while they waited for all these things to be ready. 

At the end of one day of being forceful and effective, Davos felt exhausted, but when he paused in Stannis's bedchamber door and saw his husband sleeping comfortably in a proper bed, he knew it had all been worth it. 

**

Stannis had not yet gotten the hang of being awake consistently. For some reason, they kept giving him milk of the poppy. Since every time he became aware of his surroundings, he was in a new location, he supposed the maester must be medicating him before moving him. He rather wished they wouldn't. He had no idea where he was. 

He'd been on a ship, and then in a low room lit only by a fire, and now he was on a wagon.

Was this the fourth hell? 

"Are you all right?" 

Stannis was startled by Davos's sudden appearance in the back of the wagon. He scrambled up over the back and then settled beside Stannis, for there was nearly no room for them to do anything but lie side by side. Stannis could hardly sit up. 

"Tolerable." That seemed the word to describe it. 

"Tolerable's good." Davos yawned heavily. 

"You haven't slept, have you?"

"I slept a bit," Davos murmured. "In Weeping Town. At the Merchantmaster's house." 

There was an explanation for this, but Stannis couldn't work out what it might be. The Merchantmaster of Weeping Town had never been a friend to House Baratheon, though he'd always paid his taxes and all the other necessaries. "How much did he charge you?"

"Charge me?" Davos's eyes were closed. "Nothing. It's his duty to his liege." 

"He just did as you asked?"

"He did as I demanded."

Stannis stared at him, but Davos was already fast asleep.

**

"Father! Father! Father!" 

The wagon had barely stopped in the courtyard before the children came flying out of the keep, being chased by the young woman Davos had left in charge of them. He leaped down from the wagon and ran to them, too; he hated to be away from them, especially little Devan who was only two. He swept Devan up in his arms, cuddling him close. 

"I've missed you all," he said, as Allard, Matthos, and Maric gathered round him. Even Dale greeted his brothers warmly, even though he was fourteen and certainly too old to play with his brothers. 

"Who's that?" Allard demanded loudly, as the men lifted Stannis's litter out of the back of the wagon. 

Davos braced himself and shifted Devan on his hip. "Your new stepfather. This is Lord Stannis. He and I were married on Pyke." 

He decided not to explain to the boys why; they were far too young to understand. Let them only know Stannis was their stepfather.

He decided not to think about what would happen if Stannis decided to have the marriage dissolved once he realized he would live and fully recover. 

"Lord Stannis, the one who cut off your fingers?" 

"Shh," Davos said, though he didn't think Stannis could hear him. "Yes. He is your stepfather now and you will call him Stepfather. He's been wounded and is still recovering so you mustn't disturb him."

Davos wasn't sure a houseful of boys would be a relaxing place for Stannis, but there was nothing he could do about that. Seaworth Keep was a simple wooden keep; it did not even have a dungeon with which to threaten misbehaving boys

**

Stannis next awoke in a small, wood-paneled room in a bed with dark green hangings. There was one small window with a chair beside it, and one tapestry on the wall depicting a ship with an onion on its sails. 

Where was he? 

He stared at the bed canopy for a long moment before the door opened. 

"You're finally awake." 

"You say that every time." Stannis fought to sit himself up but an intense pain at his middle made him stop. 

"What have you done here?" Davos asked, as though it was Stannis's own fault he'd been disemboweled by an Ironman. "You can't open your dressing up again; we've been doing so well on this journey." 

"Where are we?" 

"Seaworth Keep," Davos answered briskly. "Since we are married, I thought it my right to bring you here." He also seemed to think it was his right to pull the sheets down and Stannis's shift up. "Good. Everything as it should be."

Stannis only got a brief glance of linen around his entire midsection. He didn't think he wanted to know what was under there.

"We're not moving from here?"

"Not til you're well, no. This is where I decided you were going to recover." 

Stannis shivered; he liked the idea that Davos had simply taken charge and he was suddenly here. "I don't really remember much since Pyke."

"That's my fault, I'm afraid, my lord. I gave you more milk of the poppy than I'd been wont to do. I didn't want you to be in too much pain. Parts of the journey would have been much less comfortable for you."

Stannis supposed that was true. He must have been carried out of the bedroom on Pyke, put in a cart, carried to a ship which must have hit rough or stormy seas at least once, put on another cart… it was amazing that he barely had any memories of the time and none of them had been painful. All of them contained Davos.

"You were with me."

"Most of the time."

"And now…"

Davos sat on the edge of the bed. "Now we're in my keep. Our keep, really, I suppose for now."

"Why for now?" 

"Because." Davos glanced down at the furs covering the bed. "You'd be well within your rights to dissolve the marriage when you're feeling better."

"I will not do that." Stannis fought again to change his position. He could not have an important conversation lying flat on his back, much less with a pillow under his hip. Davos helped him shift. It ruined the mood somewhat. "I married you. I meant to marry you."

"Yes, my lord." 

Something about that rankled. "Call me Stannis." He seemed to remember that this had happened, though he could barely remember when. He just remembered Davos's voice saying _Stannis_.

He remembered something else, too.

"You kissed me."

Davos's cheeks were red. "It was a wedding, m—Stannis. I had to kiss you." 

He cleared his throat. "Well. I would not object to doing that again." 

Davos smiled. "I suppose you deserve at least that, if you want it." 

He kissed him chastely. As soon as they broke apart, Stannis requested another. 

He deserved _at least_ that much. 

**

Life at Seaworth Keep had its rhythms. Stannis woke and was given breakfast, and then, invariably, Davos would say, "Would you like to have a wash?" 

At first Stannis had categorically refused, but that had lasted the span of two or three days before he could no longer stand it. 

At least Davos stood a distance away, as Stannis washed himself. It was certain that Davos had seen more of him over the course of his insensibility, but Stannis preferred not to think about that. He could just about wash every part of himself, except his feet and lower legs, which he didn't mind Davos doing. 

And they were married, Stannis reminded himself. By rights, Davos ought to have seen all of him. It strangely bothered him that Davos had seen him in this context before he'd seen him in the proper one of marriage. 

"Do you want me to wash your hair?" 

"No," Stannis began, reaching up to touch his hair. It was greasy. "All right."

Davos smiled. "Let's see what we can do, then." 

Something squirmed in Stannis's chest. This was surely the fifth hell. 

Davos brought soap and a basin and bade Stannis lean back over it. It was awkward, but Davos had made it clear Stannis's dressings would not stand up to a tub bath. 

Davos's hands were impossibly gentle as rubbed soap into Stannis's hair. Stannis closed his eyes. There was no shame in enjoying his husband's touch, he told himself. Davos's shortened fingers scraped Stannis's scalp and he shivered. 

"I'm going to rinse now." There was a moment's pause and warm water was flowing over his head. Stannis had never spent much time on his toilette; he kept his hair cropped short exactly so he would have to expend next to no time on it. On campaign and with his indisposition, it had gotten longer than he preferred. He had debated asking Davos to take a razor to it, but he found he sort of liked the feeling as Davos rubbed it dry with a towel. 

Davos seemed to be looking appreciatively at him, too, and reached forward to adjust the way his hair fell over his forehead. 

Then he kissed him. Stannis had been waiting for that, hoping for it. It was a brief, chaste kiss that had Stannis following Davos's mouth when he pulled back. 

"Is there anything else I can get you?" 

"I want out of this damned bed. I want to sit up with a book." 

Davos frowned. "I'm sorry, m—Stannis. We haven't got any books." Stannis obviously did a poor job of disguising his painted expression, because he quickly added, "We will get you some. And you can sit up. At the window." 

Rising from the bed was a struggle; when he first turned himself and lowered his feet to the floor, he paused, waiting for his abdomen to split open. But Davos's dressing held and, leaning heavily on his husband, Stannis hobbled to the window and allowed himself to be eased into a chair and have a blanket set about him. 

That was enough excitement for one day, he decided. Even if he'd had a book, he wouldn't have stayed awake long enough to read it. 

**

Between Stannis and the children, Davos was busy from sunup to sundown. He relished it. Being in Stannis's service at King's Landing had given him plenty of work but it hadn't been like this. Not proper work. They hadn't had many servants before, and Davos had hired a few more but not enough to leave him idle. 

He still did his own childcare and, now, Stannis's care. Now that Stannis was up and gaining more mobility, Davos had more time to spend with his boys, and he took them outside into the spring air. He hoped Stannis would be able to manage stairs soon. Would he object to being carried down them? 

He decided it couldn't hurt to ask. It would be a lot of weight off Davos's shoulders if Stannis could join them outdoors so he could keep an eye on both husband and children at the same time.

Naturally, he wouldn't tell Stannis this. 

He decided to broach the subject when he gave him the books. 

"Where did you get these?" Stannis turned them over in his hands in awe. 

"I sent to Weeping Town for them." If he was to be married—and stay married—to Stannis, he would have to get used to spending a few coins. They had seemed dear to him at first, but he'd reminded himself that Stannis would have thought nothing of it, and so had gone forward with the purchase. He'd requested every book available, hoping Stannis would find something to read of the five that arrived. 

"Thank you." Stannis was still stroking the spine as though he was just as happy touching a book as reading it. "You must learn to read." 

It sounded almost like a threat, and Davos let it pass, just as he had let the prospect of a hundred a year slip past without comment. 

"Would you like to go outside?" 

Stannis looked at him with something almost like fear in his eyes. "How will I get out there?" 

"A chair and two strong lads from the mill," Davos said briskly. He went to fetch them before Stannis could object further.

**

Stannis utterly loathed every second of being an invalid, but the very worst were being carried down the stairs of Seaworth Keep in a chair by the twin sons of the miller, as Davos's sons darted ahead. This was the sixth hell, surely, but he was beginning to doubt he was dead. The milk of the poppy was fading; Davos had not given him any in ages, and everything—including the shouts of the children—seemed very, very real. 

He did not know how he managed them all, by himself. He glanced at Davos, who carried the smallest one on his hip, with two more clinging to his breech legs. The elder two were at least somewhat more well-behaved.

Well, he amended, they were all well-behaved. The smaller ones were just small.

It was a sunny day, and the miller's sons deposited Stannis in a patch of garden. The Seaworth boys were already engaged in some manner of roughhousing. Stannis opened his first book, a set of legends of the Rainwood. It seemed the most relevant to his current situation; he would leave the Seven-Pointed Star for last. He appreciated Davos just getting him _books_ even if he hadn't been discerning about their subject matter.

At least, he tried to read. Davos was now running about with the children, and that was a touch more pleasant to watch. 

**

"Enough of this," Stannis roared, one morning. "I am getting out of this blasted bed and walking down the stairs to rejoin the world." 

Davos stood patiently by and waited for him to calm down. 

"I never said you couldn't, husband." He had inserted the word to see Stannis's reaction to it; he had flushed a rather becoming shade of pink. "I just question if you would like to."

"Of course I would like to." Stannis looked almost… hurt. "This is your home." He cleared his throat. "My… our home. I would participate in it." Stannis closed his book and pushed himself unsteadily up from his chair. Davos went right to him, which was fortunate because Stannis immediately grabbed his arm. 

"I can walk," he insisted. 

"Of course you can. Just lean on me." 

Together, they slowly made their way down the stairs. Davos was very conscious of Stannis's nearness, more so than he had been at any time during this whole endeavor. He was solid, warm, with a clean soapy smell. Davos had never allowed himself to think about what might happen if they ever consummated their marriage, but now his thoughts were running wild with the image of Stannis's enormous hands on him. 

It was worth giving him another out, now that it was obvious he wasn't to be an invalid for life. Perhaps he had not minded being cared for by Davos when he'd thought he would never be able to look after himself, nor attract another husband or wife. 

"The offer still stands, you know," he said quietly, casting his eyes down. He couldn't suggest Stannis have their marriage annulled while looking into his blue eyes or that dark hair that flopped onto his forehead. He'd been waiting for Stannis to ask for it to be cut, but he hadn't yet. Davos was glad, for he liked it to have a little length to it. 

"What offer?" 

"We don't need to stay married."

Stannis stopped and Davos stopped with him. "If you do not wish to remain married to me, Davos… I thought we already agreed."

"Yes, but you're better now. You may not wish to tie yourself to me." 

"There is no one else I would rather be tied to," Stannis said brusquely. "So if you have no one else _you'd_ rather be tied to, we might as well be tied to each other. It works rather well, and will work better when I am…" He cleared his throat. "More able to fulfill all my marital duties."

"Oh." Davos felt his face grow hot. He hadn't expected Stannis to actually declare his wish to consummate the marriage. 

"Not now," Stannis said, blushing awkwardly, "but it will come in time." 

"Of course." 

Davos gave in to impulse and kissed Stannis's cheek. "Now, let's go to breakfast. I'm sure you're hungry."

**

As the days and weeks passed and Stannis regained his strength, he found himself enmeshed in the seventh hell. He was in love with his husband. 

It had been harder to think of that when Davos was helping him dress and walk, but now that Stannis could do those things on his own, he had time to appreciate Davos. 

Seaworth Keep was much smaller than Stannis was used to, but Davos was as involved in every aspect of its running as his father had been at Storm's End. When he was well enough to walk a long way on his own, Stannis followed Davos, watching as he spoke with everyone who worked on his land. 

"This is a fine legacy you're building for your children," Stannis told him, after Davos had stopped to help the milkmaid. 

"For our children, too, I should hope," Davos said. Stannis's stomach turned over, and not because of the healing skin that pulled every time he took a step. "That is…"

"If I am able to produce any children." 

Davos's eyebrows rose. "If?" 

Stannis frowned. "My injuries…" 

"Were not to the important parts." Davos smiled wickedly and leaned in closer. Warmth spread through Stannis's middle as Davos's hand skimmed over his stomach. "Are you in less pain now?"

Stannis couldn't say he was in any pain at all now. And then, even though they were on the path in the middle of the bailey, Davos stood on tiptoes and kissed him. He had to put his hand on Stannis's chest for balance, and Stannis slipped his arms around him. 

Davos made a satisfied sound and pressed closer. 

"Davos—" Stannis began.

"Are you in pain?" 

"No, but—" He glanced around them. 

Davos chuckled. "We are married and the masters of this castle. We are allowed to kiss in the bailey."

So, they went on doing it.

**

"You look so much better," Davos said one morning. Stannis didn't need help dressing but Davos had taken it upon himself to check the healing progress of his wound. The new-healed skin was pink, but healthy; Davos let his shortened fingers ghost over it. He had few regrets over teasing Stannis on purpose now that they had grown so comfortable around each other. "I'm glad." 

He couldn't keep his voice from shaking. He couldn't bear how close he'd come to losing his husband. 

Stannis took his hand and kissed Davos's fingertips. "Thank you, Davos." 

"I am your husband. You don't have to thank me." 

Stannis twined their fingers together. "I ought to have courted you. We ought to be planning a proper wedding." 

Davos laughed. "That was a proper wedding. There was a septon, a cloak, and everything. And what have we been doing these past few weeks but courting?"

"Mm. It is rather backward. Besides, a proper wedding requires something else."

"Don't tell me you would have rather had a feast and a bedding." 

Stannis's mouth twitched. "Perhaps not as such. But I might have enjoyed the bedding." 

Davos touched a shortened finger to Stannis's lips. "We can still have one of those if you feel up to it."

Stannis splayed his hand over his abdomen. "I think I do." 

**

Stannis almost regretted agreeing to the bedding. The rest of his day—trying to get Davos's paperwork in some kind of order, telling the children a story in the afternoon—was suffused with a sort of nervous energy. 

When he wasn't seated at the desk he'd commandeered for himself in the solar, or actually had a child in his lap, he was pacing. 

"You don't want to tire yourself out, do you?" Davos said, fetching Devan for his nap. 

Stannis felt his face burn and removed himself to the desk. Davos had apparently placed every piece of paper he'd received in six years of administering his lands here without ever looking at it. Not that he could, but… Stannis had his work cut out for him, he thought, as he settled in happily to work out sums. That would keep his mind off other matters. 

He managed to avoid thinking about it as they had supper and put the children to bed. Stannis couldn't exactly pinpoint when he'd begun staying through the entire procedure of getting into nightclothes and stories. 

And then he and Davos were alone, on their way back to Stannis's room. 

"Our room," Stannis muttered.

"Mm." Davos's hand curled around Stannis's bicep and his head rested on his shoulder. "Have you given any thought to returning to Dragonstone?" 

"No." Stannis surprised himself by the forcefulness of his answer. "Naturally we will have to spend some time there." He opened the door and entered their small, cozy bedchamber. At Dragonstone, they would have had two sprawling chambers to themselves. He might not even have spent every night beside Davos like he wanted to. "Our child will inherit it." That made him start to like the place more, but he did not like it nearly as much as Seaworth Keep. 

"It's not too far by sea," Davos said. "Our child can know their inheritance even if we raise our family here." He began slowly unlacing Stannis's doublet. This heralded a rush of warmth that ran right to Stannis's cock. The desire he'd felt all day came rushing back, mixed with anticipation. 

"Indeed." He tilted Davos's face up and kissed him. They would fill this keep up with children; he might even have to talk Davos into replacing it with a stone castle. But that would be a long way off. This was only the first step.


End file.
